


Nothing Sweeter

by ohhotlamb



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, mukkun is so pretty we need to be talking about this more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:24:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5230319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohhotlamb/pseuds/ohhotlamb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sun is filtering in, dancing off the sleekness of Atsushi’s ridiculous hair. Dust motes catch the light around him, a halo of fluttering stardust. His heather-colored eyes are glowing, his pupils reduced to small pricks of black under the harsh light. It’s enchanting. It’s something that makes Himuro’s stomach feel odd, makes him feel like he can’t quite catch his breath.  It’s—</p><p>Oh, Himuro realizes, eyes widening slightly. That’s it.</p><p>“Atsushi, you are quite beautiful."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Sweeter

Himuro stares, almost feeling creepy but not quite enough to look away. Something’s bothering him, but he can’t quite put his finger on what. Everything _seems_ normal - Atsushi is sitting across from him at the study table, a small mountain of packaged snacks in front of him. He currently seems to be in a big dilemma choosing between a bag of chocolate-covered potato chips and a family-sized package of Skittles. Himuro knows that both snacks will be gone within the hour, but it seems Atsushi is still having trouble deciding which he should eat next. His brows are furrowed so tightly he looks pained. Constipated. The thought makes Himuro’s mouth tick up for half a second before he settles back down into intense focus.

They’re sitting by the big library windows, overlooking the barren winter school yard - they're alone in their little section, the spot chosen specifically so the sound of cellophane wouldn't be intrusive to other students. Himuro had insisted on studying in the library after school, since they had a rare day off from practice. After the disappointing results of the Winter Cup, Coach Araki had sensed a few days off before the intense practice regime of the fast-approaching winter break would do them some good, both mentally and physically. It was nice, because he had been skimping a little on his schoolwork, so wholly focused on basketball that he was. And Himuro had been doing just fine, working on calculus and being soothed by the familiar and hypnotizing sound of aluminum wrappers being ripped open, one right after the other. But then he had looked up, just for a second, and he’s been stuck staring at Atsushi for the past ten minutes, _at least_. He’s getting more and more frustrated as time goes on, because he just doesn’t _get it._

Because Atsushi certainly isn’t doing anything remarkable. He's not doing _anything,_ really - he doesn’t even have his homework out (“Too much work, Muro-chin. Not enough food, Muro-chin"), and is instead staring at his tooth-rotting options before finally picking out the package of Skittles, prying it open with all the focused yet gentle intensity of a painter pressing their brush to the canvas.

And it could be a painting, Himuro thinks. The sun is filtering in, dancing off the sleekness of Atsushi’s ridiculous hair. Dust motes catch the light around him, a halo of fluttering stardust. His heather-colored eyes are glowing, his pupils reduced to small pricks of black under the harsh light. It’s enchanting. It’s something that makes Himuro’s stomach feel odd, makes him feel like he can’t quite catch his breath.  It’s—

Oh, Himuro realizes, eyes widening slightly. That’s it.

“Atsushi, you are quite beautiful,” he tells him, realizing too late that he should probably be embarrassed by what just came out of his mouth, but unable to make himself feel anything but awe at his revelation. And relief, because he’s finally figured out what’s been troubling him. And it's a relief, because not only is it not even an actual problem, but quite the opposite. A pleasant, yet painfully obvious, surprise. 

Atsushi stops chewing. He looks up, bottom lip slightly tinted blue from an azure Skittle. He blinks, before looking down at his pile of snacks. He frowns. “Muro-chin, if you wanted some, you could have just asked me. I mean, you can’t have any of _these,_ but I think I have some leftover pocky in my bag…it might be a little stale though…”

Himuro laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to butter you up, Atsushi. I’m simply being honest. You’re very pretty. You’re beautiful.”

And he is. Not in the way Kise Ryouta is, with his wickedly long eyelashes and perfect bowed lips and marble-carved bone structure. Not the way a model is, not in a conventional way, but beautiful just the same.

Himuro decides that his heavily lidded eyes are their own breed of charming, their color striking, like the purple hydrangeas that bloom so beautifully in the summer months. His nose is far from being button-like - a prominent bump lies in the middle from a break years ago, the tip slightly turned up. The nearly sharp jut of his chin is framed by a strong jaw; a long, elegant neck sweeping down to meet artfully crafted collarbones. On the rare occasions Atsushi lets him play with his hair, the lavender strands are silky smooth, pliable and easy to twist into braids and knots and ponytails. And even though he's so tall it's nearly awkward the rest of him is a work of art, as well - a miracle, considering what he eats on a day-to-day basis. But that is, Himuro concludes, fitting of someone people call a Miracle. 

Yes, Himuro decides, Atsushi is very attractive. And he deserves to know it.

Atsushi’s eyelid twitches, and he drops the handful of candy onto the table - they make a sound like raindrops pattering on a tin roof, and the dye has stained his hand rainbow colors, having melted after he held onto them for too long. “I—" he stops, his nose wrinkling, and his lips curl. Himuro doesn’t stop smiling - he knows Atsushi like the back of his hand, and knows the face he’s making isn’t one of disgust.

“I’m sorry I've embarrassed you. But I had been thinking it for quite a while, and I didn’t wish to keep it to myself any longer,” he says apologetically, smiling in way he knows is caramel-soft and watching as pale roses bloom across Atsushi’s pale cheekbones. Atsushi ducks his head, tugging at the end of a strand of hair and scowling. “Muro-chin should shut up.”

Himuro laughs again, inclines his head. “If that’s what you want.”

He looks back down at his paper, set on focusing for real now that he’d figured out what was eating at him. He’s only just started reading about integrals again when a giant foot kicks at his shin, gently, and he looks up, a smile already set in place. Atsushi doesn’t look at him, but is staring out the window with his face still pinched into something sour.

“What is it, Atsushi?” Himuro asks gently, placing his elbows on the table and cupping his chin in his palm.

Atsushi’s frown grows deeper, so extreme he very nearly looks angry. But Himuro knows better. “You really think I’m pretty? You’re not lying?”

Himuro blinks, his mouth dropping open and unable to hide the absolutely _aghast_ face he makes. “ _Atsushi, of course not!”_ He leans in closer. “Why would I lie about something like this? I find you very attractive, and I—“ and then Himuro cuts himself off, choking on his own words and biting on his tongue when he realizes how…how _odd_ that just sounded, how odd it made him feel, admitting those words out loud. Suddenly he also has trouble meeting Atsushi’s eyes, which peek at him from the side, and he looks down at his paper, feeling his face heat up and unable to determine why exactly that is. It was just a compliment. That’s all it was - he was telling Atsushi something very obvious not just to get it off his chest but to make his best friend feel good about himself, as well. Who doesn’t like hearing that someone else finds them good-looking? It didn’t _mean_ anything. It was harmless compliment. A harmless…

Atsushi huffs, leaning back into his chair, is foot nudging Himuro’s under the table. “I changed my mind. I’ll let you have _one_ thing from my pile. Since you’re so good at flattery.”

 _It doesn’t mean anything. Atsushi is just beautiful. And he’s my best friend. Of course I like him. Wait, I_ like _—_

Himuro grins, the smile straining as he fights to keep his thoughts at a reasonable volume. “I don’t think I’d mind a piece of candy. May I have a Skittle? I like the red ones.”

“Sure.” Atsushi hesitates for a few moments, looking like there’s a fierce battle raging on inside him ( _and it is, quite frankly, adorable - why does everything he do look so adorable all of a sudden?)_ before he sighs, reaching over and plucking a red Skittle from the pile he had dropped onto the table. He looks up, something like determination set in his eyes, and Himuro nearly stops breathing because when was the last time he saw that look anywhere but on the court? Why now, of all times? Did he really need that much motivation for kindergarten-level sharing?

But then Atsushi is leaning over the study table, popping the Skittle between his teeth as he goes, his chair scraping back just slightly, and Himuro’s mouth parts to tell him that it’s fine, he can just go to the vending machines and get something, when Atsushi’s mouth is on his.

Himuro freezes, a surprised sound strangled from his throat, but Atsushi doesn’t pull away. He presses his lips to Himuro’s insistently, a soft but sure pressure, and Himuro nearly faints to realize that not only is he being kissed, but that the kiss tastes so strongly of sugar and artificial fruit flavor that he can feel it on the back of his tongue, the smell so potent it fogs up his brain like a heady perfume.

Atsushi still isn’t moving, and Himuro realizes that his mouth isn’t either - he seems to be waiting for something, and the moment Himuro finds that he’s _disappointed_ that the lips against his are motionless is the moment he realizes that he should be kissing _back. That he wants to be, so badly._ So he does, opening his mouth a little wider and pressing into it, breathing out gustily and closing his eyes. He leans forward to meet him, so Atsushi doesn’t have to bend so far, and he kisses back - he molds his lips to fit perfectly against Atsushi’s, his nose pressed probably too hard into his friend’s cheek, and when Atsushi wetly moves their mouths together he makes a soft keening sound, too quiet for anyone to hear but Atsushi, and the noise he gets in response - a pleased growl - makes him feel like he might die.

Hands - huge, beautiful, long-fingered and warm, cup his face, one finding the back of his head and holding him still. Then, so deliberately Himuro feels himself slip slightly into madness, Atsushi pushes his tongue forward, and in the process he shoves a cherry-flavored Skittle directly into Himuro’s mouth.

And then he’s leaning back and away, color high on his cheeks and looking far too pleased with himself. His heavily-lidded eyes are even more so now, and Himuro never realized until then how _sultry_ Atsushi looks without even trying. 

Himuro sucks on the candy, the hard-shelled casing already softened by someone else’s mouth, and he stares at Atsushi, dumbly.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you, Muro-chin. But I had been thinking of doing that for quite a while, and I didn’t wish to keep it to myself any longer,” Atsushi twists his own words back on him, softly, smugly, and the blush spreading across his face and down his neck doesn’t diminish how horribly alluring he looks. Doesn’t keep Himuro from wanting to kiss him again, _so badly. Doesn’t keep him from wanting to kiss him until he feels his own name being moaned against his mouth, doesn’t keep him from wanting so much more—_

“On...on second thought,” Himuro croaks, “I…I think I want something from the vending machines. Atsushi, come with me. I’ll treat you to something.” He feels almost guilty, using the promise of food as a weapon like this, but he has the feeling that Atsushi would have followed him anyways. They leave their school supplies at the table, an abandoned calculus book and a pile of junk food, a handful of rainbow candy scattered across the hard surface, and he’s hardly surprised at the way a huge hand twines their fingers together the moment they turn the corner.

If he crowds Atsushi into the alcove by the vending machines and kisses him senseless, then no one has any proof. They don’t have evidence of the way he eases his hands into Atsushi’s khaki pants, working him into a deep, incoherent mumbling of “ _Muro-chin, oh, Muro-chin”_ , of how he presses his mouth everywhere it can reach, his teeth skating across soon-bare collarbones and broad shoulders. _Beautiful,_ Himuro tells him, _so, so beautiful,_ and Atsushi shudders against him, his hips jerking in time with Himuro’s hand, his breaths soft and gasping. When Atsushi comes, with a whimper and a groan of Himuro’s name, his first name, a weak and reverent gasp of _Tatsuya,_ Himuro isn’t surprised to find that all it takes is a few rough ruts of his hips against Atsushi’s thigh before he buries his face in Atsushi’s chest to muffle his shout.

No one has any proof, especially after he licks his hand clean, especially after he helps Atsushi tug his shirt back on over his head and tucks it into his pants, runs his hands through his rat’s-nest hair. There is no evidence other than the sticky cold at the front of his trousers, but he can’t get himself to feel rueful about it, not even for a second.

When Atsushi kisses him later, when they part on their respective ways home, he finds himself melting into the taste of sugar and artificial fruit, vaguely thinking that nothing has ever tasted sweeter.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in like 2 hours. i don't think ANYTHING i've ever written as come as easily and quickly to me as this little fic. it all stemmed from this one thought, "no one talks enough about how pretty Mukkun is", and so basically I wanted an excuse to moon over him for a little while. plus i'm crazy weak for MuraHimu, so. this happened. 
> 
> My tumblr is smileyeeyore.tumblr.com if y'all wanna chat with me about how beautiful Mukkun is!


End file.
